


I Don't Want Anybody Else

by Yeppi



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: IMAGINARY ORAL SEX THO, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-15
Updated: 2014-05-15
Packaged: 2018-01-24 22:38:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1619510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yeppi/pseuds/Yeppi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>... When I think about you I touch myself.</p><p>(Just my take on Koujaku jackin’ it to the thought of Aoba’s sleeping face in the common route)</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Don't Want Anybody Else

**Author's Note:**

> Had to take a break from Liberation to write something I've had in my head for a while and it was gonna drive me nuts if I didn't get it out. 
> 
> Koujaku too, apparently.
> 
> Heyyooooo

_Oh God, what am I doing?_

Koujaku had locked himself in the Seragaki’s washroom, leaning against the strained wooden door. The smell of Tae-san’s delicious cooking wafted through the cracks, almost enough to distract from the devious thoughts filling his head.

Almost.

He closed his eyes and pictured it again; Aoba’s blissful sleeping face. His slender arm wrapped so gently around himself, rising and falling steadily with each breath. The way that gorgeous, unkempt hair draped over his shoulders and onto the pillow. The blue bangs covering his forehead so gracefully, moved ever so slightly when the eyes underneath fluttered. Aoba’s eyes had been shut, but Koujaku could picture their inciting glow, the way they shot right through him during every conversation. He pictured how they fit so nicely above Aoba’s soft, round cheeks. He hadn't touched Aoba’s face much (given that they were male friends, and all), so he was relying heavily on expectations from appearances when he imagined how silky the skin would feel gliding under his fingertips. Just thinking about how soft and kissable those flushed cheeks are made his cock twitch in interest.

His head slammed back against the door as he grit his teeth, fingernails digging into the wood.

_Don’t think about Aoba like this._

_Stop thinking about Aoba._

Eyes clasping shut once more, his mind immediately returned to the sleeping figure.

_Damn it._

He’d only barged in for a moment, yet everything about the view stained his memory. Every detail pelted his mind the moment he closed his eyes, unable to focus on something, _anything_ else. Picking up where he had left off, he pictured those round cheeks and soft jawline, slipping down to a long, enticing neck. He'd always found long, thin necks on women incredibly alluring, but they seemed to pale in comparison to the one so lewdly displayed on Aoba's bed. It'd look beautiful covered in light hickies, craned to the side, muscles moving ever so slightly under the skin with each heated breath. From there, lips would wander towards those jutting collarbones, sensitive skin begging for a nip of the teeth. He pictured Aoba’s flat, delicate chest underneath that tight shirt. He’d seen Aoba shirtless before, countless times, but never bothered committing it to memory. His stare had lingered too long before, notably while Aoba was quickly changing his shirt after a night out. He'd figured that the stare was perfectly acceptable directed towards someone he'd grown to care for so dearly, who now fit an adult frame. Curiosity was only natural, of course.

He did, however, remember those cute, pink nipples of his. He pictured Aoba sprawled out on the bed, squeezing at them while panting in arousal.

"Ah…" Koujaku wet his dry lips, scraping teeth over the lower almost too roughly. He was painfully hard, pushing against his jeans and begging for release. His hand was shaking as it left the door and unzipped his pants, soon recruiting the other for assistance. His pants sagged around his knees, uncomfortable pain of the heavy denim no longer restraining his arousal. Shakily rubbing at the bulge in his boxers, he groaned at the pressure underneath. He hadn't been this turned on in God knows how long, and it was over Aoba, no less. Peeling the boxers down, he glanced at his standing erection, guilt pooling in his chest.

He could still turn back, maybe take a cold shower and leave with his pride intact, striding into the kitchen having successfully averted a confusing and rather troubling self pleasure session. Besides, how would he look Aoba in the eyes after doing something so obscene? It was best to stop now.

Just as he thought he could get his imagination under control, he pictured Aoba’s flushed face below him. His long legs would be tucked neatly underneath him, cute pink cock standing in anticipation. The way he’d grip Koujaku’s dick, how he’d kiss the tip while whispering his name. Koujaku threw caution to the wind and wrapped his fingers around himself, small grunts sounding in his throat at the long awaited sensation. Without trying to hold back any longer, he closed his eyes and let his imagination run wild.

“Ngh…” Moisture beaded at the slit as heat throbbed in his hand, painfully awaiting movement. He slowly stroked himself from base to tip, hooking his finger around to catch the wetness. His head flung back as he pictured another's fingers replacing his own, ignoring the pain of so carelessly throwing himself against the door. Aoba's touch would be hesitant, fingers shaking as they wrapped around the length in front of him. Koujaku's hand began slowly rubbing up and down, softer than usual, sinking further into the fantasy of Aoba's timid hands touching him. Glancing towards the bathroom counter, he rifled through soaps and brushes, knocking various cleaning products over until coming to rest around a large bottle of hand lotion. He brought the bottle to his face and examined it, popping the lid and squeezing the contents into his hand. Quickly placing the bottle back, his hand dropped down and immediately wrapped around his stiffening dick once again. Gliding up and down with ease, he began pumping himself with a steady rhythm, pushing his thumb down roughly with each stroke. He pictured Aoba's hand grasping his tattooed thigh to steady himself, kissing sloppily at the base as he slid his hand up and down. His head rolled as he imagined vibrant hazel eyes staring up at him, lips smacking loudly against flesh. Aoba would use his tongue frequently, flicking and sliding around every inch of the other. He'd be a fast learner, repeating motions that could nearly bring Koujaku to his knees. He'd moan the man's name with that enticing voice, breathing heavily through the licks and kisses.

 _"Ahh, Koujaku,"_ He'd hum. _"Does it feel good, Koujaku?"_

Responding lowly to the voice in his head, he murmured, "Aoba... fuck, _Aoba_."

_That felt good._

_Say it again._

His voice elevated slightly, breathing through grit teeth as he repeated, "Ngh, Aoba." The blood rushed to his head, thoughts becoming hazy as he dove further into the fantasy. Aoba would drag his tongue along the bottom of the shaft, slowly making his way to the tip. Shit, that tongue must feel amazing. As he began moving faster, his mind slipped into the one image that made his stomach drop. Aoba was taking him in now, wrapping those plush, kissable lips around Koujaku's cock. He'd start agonizingly slow, sliding the length down his throat before removing himself completely. He'd tease the tip by rolling his tongue around the sensitive skin, accompanied by stifled breathy moans. Aoba would begin to touch himself now, heavy breath adding to the sensation. Picturing the beautiful blue head of hair below him, he slipped his fingers through it, gently massaging as Aoba's head bobbed up and down. He'd never be able to touch Aoba's hair like this, and he was very aware of this fact, which seemed to make it all the more erotic. The thought of being so intimate with Aoba, being the one to comb through his hair, to kiss it between his fingers, to _cut it_. Oh, he could only dream of cutting Aoba's perfect hair. He'd wanted to for years, ever since he returned to the island, in fact. He stupidly thought it was a passion coming from his years of hairdressing, but clearly it was much deeper. Hell, he didn't even care about the pleasure of Aoba touching him, he wanted the intimacy. To think of Aoba sharing an experience like this with him; wanting to make him feel good, wanting to touch him, wanting _him_ , it sent a shiver down his spine.

Heat pooled under his stomach, prickling sensations scattering from his head to his toes. Being the fantastic lover he surely is, Aoba would pick up speed, sensing how close to the edge Koujaku was. He'd slow to a stop, wrapping his fingers around the length while lapping at the underside of the tip. Koujaku dug his thumb into the slit, calling Aoba's name as he found the sweet spot and, inevitably, felt his release. Hes slid down against the door, staring at the sticky mess on his fingers as he tried to catch his breath. As he examined the liquid coating his fingers, his thoughts finally caught up with him.

This just came out of his penis.  


Because he couldn't stop touching it.

_While thinking about Aoba._

Oh shit. Oooh shit, this is bad.

What is he going to say to Aoba? No, Aoba can never know about this. He'd tell Aoba about anything; his tattoos, the loved ones he's harmed, that really embarrassing thing he did at a party last year, _anything_ else but this. What would he say if he found out? Would he be disgusted? Angry? Disgusted _and_ angry? Either way, he wouldn't have to find out if Koujaku cleaned himself up and got the hell out of the bathroom. He propped himself up and turned on the sink, running his hands under the lukewarm water. Splashing some on his face, Koujaku stared into the mirror as he braced himself on the counter's edge.

Things were different now. There was no way around it; he'd pleasured himself to the thought of his precious childhood friend. He'd thought of Aoba, and damn it, he loved every second of it.

The most unsettling thought, however, wasn't that things were different now.

They had been different for a while, and he'd been too stupid to realize it.


End file.
